


Don't Go

by Rising_Phoenix



Series: Phoenix' 2020 Birthday Raffle [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mention of immortality, Porn with Feelings, Spit As Lube, men with feelings, set a few weeks after Joe and Nicky meet first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26667385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rising_Phoenix/pseuds/Rising_Phoenix
Summary: Nicolò has announced he will leave Yusuf behind in the harbour, wanting to continue his search for the women they are dreaming of on his own - but just when Yusuf has given up hope to keep Nicolò by his side, things change...or do they?
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Phoenix' 2020 Birthday Raffle [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938841
Comments: 17
Kudos: 185





	Don't Go

**Author's Note:**

> For the second place winner (commissioned fanfic, minimum 2,500 words) of my Birthday Raffle.

The late afternoon sun dipped the small tavern room into a golden light, painting deep shadows on the walls.

The room was small, but they had to stay in smaller rooms before, but they had spent nights underneath the stars with no protection against wind and rain before and so this small room was better than nothing. The clouds outside promised heavy rain, maybe even a small storm that was rising, and spending the night outside, making them target to the elements, would be more than just uncomfortable. The bed that stood at one wall was narrow, only space for one man to sleep in with comfort, a chair and a small table next to the door. The tavern owner that had given them the room for the night had only looked shortly in curiosity at them but had not batted an eyes over two men sharing a room, probably because many travelers shared a room to save money. One of them would sleep in the bed, the other would arrange a small cot on the floor from the blankets they owned and had used often during their journey.

But this night was different than the other nights in the past weeks since they had left Jerusalem together, unlikely companions bound to each other by fate.

This was the last night he would sleep close to the crusader before their ways would part in the morning.

Yusuf stepped closer to the window and looked outside.

The street below, the marketplace was busy, people rushing to finish their duties while the weather was still not causing problems and the sunlight was still enough. His hand touched the wooden frame of the window and he found his fingers tremble slightly. He wished he could appear without emotion, but his emotions were in such a turmoil that he would never be able to hide what he was feeling at this evening. The fear. The desperation. The anger. And still, he would not show them openly. There would not be a fight about the decision that had been made, and there would be not a moment of him trying to convince the other to change his mind about what he planned to do. They had talked about it, even fought, ending in him being told to shut up and he had. He had lowered his head like a scolded child and averted his eyes for hours before they had both decided without making a decision to ignore the words said and accept what would happen now. What they had always known would happen one day. He had only never anticipated it to happen so soon, now that they had an eternity to explore their friendship. But maybe, he was the only one who felt this way about this.

He sighed and raised his hand to touch the amulet he was wearing since he had buried the one who had worn this gold amulet before, a gift from a travel he had made to Egypt many years ago, a memory of a life that he had left behind when he had willingly joined the fight in Jerusalem, against the invaders, against the crusaders, against the murderers. A memory of a life that was no more and never would be again. He contemplated to take it off, throw it away, but he owed them to honor their memory, to never forget a life that never had felt right if he was being honest. This, this new life he had, this life after Jerusalem, it strangely felt right. More right than any day he had ever lived through before. With the other man, with Nicolò, who should be the enemy, the man he had killed and had been killed by. And still, he knew this was a life unreachable for him. Destined to be alone, that was what they both were, this was what Nicolò had said in their fight. There was no them, there was no bond except for the fate they shared.

The words had been upsetting, especially after the moments of intimacy they had shared, that had made Yusuf hope for something else, something deeper and more meaningful. He felt something else, but he would never tell Nicolò about those feelings, not after Nicolò’s face of disgust after that first kiss they had given each other down by the river after bathing. Not after the touches and moans they had given each other one night in the oasis. He had wanted so much that Nicolò would have given him a happy smile. Instead, he had not dared to look into Yusuf’s eyes, had not spoken to him for hours, now that he knew that Yusuf spoke and understood Latin, having traveled far and seen so much more than he had ever thought possible. He wanted nothing more than Nicolò to be happy, to be without fear and without shame, and if that meant that their ways would part than it would be like that. Even if it meant that Nicolò took his broken heart with him. He would get over it, he knew that. He knew he could live without the crusader in his life, but he did not know if he wanted that still. But always, he would honor his wishes, would show the priest his support in whatever he decided for his own life, and would never stand in his way.

If it only was that easy.

He continued to watch the people on the street below, watched a woman with three children checking out the fruit on one of the market stands, touching the produce and twisting them in her hands, while her smallest child, a boy, decided to take one of the apples and just bite into it, resulting in him being told off by his mother. Yusuf had to laugh and smiled fondly at the small family. He imagined them returning home later, into a house where their father and husband waited for them, embracing them and being happy. He missed his family. Missed his mother and grandmother, not so much his father and brothers, and he missed his wife and the children, all the loved ones he had either buried or would never be able to see again. And he would miss them every single day of his life. Maybe that was the punishment for his sins. An eternal life that would never have him forget what he had lost. What he was losing now.

A sound behind his back made him turn around and a small smile appeared on his lip when he saw Nicolò coming back, but then he remembered why his friend had left him here alone for a too long time, and the smile froze and turned into a mask he was wearing.

Nicolò gave him a nod, while he put down his satchel on the chair and started to take off the top layer of his clothing, dusty and sandy.

“Did you get done everything you wanted?” Yusuf asked, praying silently that he had changed his mind, that he would tell him that tomorrow would be a day different to what he feared, but Nicolò gave him another nod.

“I have,” he replied. “There is a ship leaving tomorrow at sunrise. I could get a space on it for me.”

Yusuf held for a moment his breath.

“Sunrise,” he whispered, so much earlier than he thought it would happen.

Again, Nicolò nodded.

“Do you to eat something?” Nicolò then asked, but Yusuf shook his head no, turning again to look outside the window, unable to say something else, not wanting Nicolò to see the sadness that was certainly visible on his face.

“Are you certain it is the right decision?” He asked after silent minutes. “What if you regret it?”

He heard Nicolò shuffle behind him, and then something dropped to the floor. When Yusuf turned back around, he saw Nicolò sitting on a blanket on the floor, having pulled one boot off his leg. Now the former crusader, the man that not too long ago had been a priest, looked up at him, the sandy hair in disarray and looking so soft that Yusuf wanted to reach out and touch it, pull a wayward strand behind Nicolò’s ear in which he wore an earring for a few weeks. The clear eyes of his friend were sad as well, and the smile he gave him a little helpless.

“It’s the only decision I’m able to make,” he said, starting to pull off the other boot as well.

Yusuf nodded and crossed his arms, rubbing his biceps with one hand as if to protect himself from the cold that was surrounding his heart.

“Tell me,” he started, not daring to look into Nicolò’s eyes that were always able to look into his soul. “Is it because of me? Because of what happened between us when we stayed in the oasis? If it’s that...I...”

“It’s not and it is,” Nicolò said quickly. “Yusuf, I can’t do this, you must understand that this all, it’s too much for me. You want things from this life that has been given to us that I don’t want, that I can’t want. I can’t settle down with you somewhere and just live when we both dream of the others. There are others like us in the world, and I think it is our destiny to find each other as you and I have found us.”

Yusuf frowned, lowering his gaze.

“Please, Yusuf,” the other continued. “You are my friend. You are the best friend I have ever had, and if destiny wants, we will find each other again, but please, please understand that I have to go on and search for them. Alone.”

“If it is what I did...”

“What we both did,” Nicolò stopped his words. “You touched me, but I allowed you to touch me, you did not force yourself on me, Yusuf. I can’t admit that I wanted any of that to happen, your lips on...I just can’t, but I can assure you that I carry the same guilt as you do for what happened.”

Again, Yusuf nodded, remembering for a second how he had kissed Nicolò, who first struggled for seconds before he had given in to the kiss, had tasted his lips and then his body, when he had taken Nicolò’s manhood into his mouth, had sucked and licked him, kissed and made him loose control in the end, begging him to stop and to never stop at the same time. He had known it was a mistake, a cruel fateful mistake that he had not been able to avoid making. Not when he felt all these forbidden things for a man who would never feel the same.

“Forgive me,” Yusuf whispered.

Still not wanting Nicolò to see his tears, not waiting for his reaction, Yusuf turned and pulled his tunic over his head, sitting down on the bed, long knowing that it was fruitless to discuss with Nicolò that he should use the softer bed instead of the floor. Maybe it was the priest in him still, or the need to search for atonement for sins that none of their Gods would ever forgive them.

Silently, both men undressed even though it was still early, and Yusuf crawled under the woolen blankets that the tavern owner had provided in addition to them. Thes were surprisingly soft and smelled like hay and salt like the harbor town smelled.

He curled up on his side, pulling the blanket over his shoulder, and stared out of the window, watching the seagulls in the sky that slowly changed it’s color to shades of red, orange, and violet, colors he wished he could put into a painting, conserving them for the centuries to come. Those dreaded centuries of loneliness that awaited him now that Nicolò was leaving him.

He wanted to run away, get a horse and ride into the desert until the horse passed out underneath him and he could scream his pain into the void until he had no more voice, no more tears, and still, he did not want to leave Nicolò’s side for as long as he still had the other’s company, these precious late hours he could spend in the same room as him, listen to his breathing, listen to his laughter and the stories they shared, even though he knew there would be no stories tonight.

The silence hung in the room like a dark cloud, suffocating, and painful. Neither able to say a word. Yusuf squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the sadness and the emptiness in his heart away, but it did not work. There was a pain in his chest that mirrored no pain he ever experienced before. Not even when Nicolò had rammed his dagger into his chest, that day in Jerusalem.

He rolled onto his back, staring now at the wooden ceiling, an arm angled above his head and his curls, grown past his shoulders by now, surrounding his head like a black halo. He remembered the moments when Nicolò had laughed for the first time, his eyes filled with glee, only a few weeks ago when they had been fishing and had caught the first fish, fried them later above a campfire. He had looked so happy that Yusuf had no choice but to lean over to him and press a kiss to his lips. Nicolò’s eyes had widened, but then he had melted into the kiss, returned it until they both had been breathless, and still, there had been a smile on both their faces and for a moment Yusuf had dared to hope that there was a future for them. He had started to talk about a house somewhere close to the ocean, had told Nicolò stories about that island he knew off where Christian and Muslims lived together in peace. And while he dreamed, Nicolò had grown more and more silent. Yusuf cursed himself and his desire for the man. He lost his friend because he could not refrain from touching him, from caressing him, from the wish of making him his own. Had lost everything.

Suddenly, there was a movement and his hand went to find the dagger he kept under the pillow, but then a shadow fell over him and the bed shifted a little at an additional weight.

He frowned into the dimmed light, almost darkness by now, raising his head a little to make up what was going on.

A man was sitting on the edge of the bed, lithe and yet of a toned build with not too narrow shoulders. Hair to his shoulder fell in soft-looking waves around his lowered head, and he looked like he was praying, with both hands in his lap.

Nicolò.

Yusuf let go of the dagger and reached out for his friend, touching the side of his body and flinched away at the skin contact, hearing how Nicolò gasped at the touch himself, either not having expected Yusuf to react or being as stunned as the other man by the hiver that over both their bodies at the contact.

Nicolò turned, his face hidden by darkness and his hair, and reached out with a hand himself, a hand that Yusuf took in his, their fingers lacing themselves automatically as if they had done this a thousand times before, both waiting for something to happen.

“Nic...,” Yusuf started but was shushed by a sound that Nicolò made and then held his breath when the crusader moved forwards.

Yusuf leaned back into his pillow while Nicolò was straddling him, his flawless body only separated from his own by the blanket that had protected Yusuf from the cold of the night, one flat hand pressing down on Yusuf’s chest right over his heart, and then he leaned forward.

His lips were hovering for agonizing moments above Yusuf’s slightly opened, both men breathing through their mouth, their breath mixing and touching each other like a gentle caress. And then Nicolò closed the distance between them, his lips, soft and still firm, touched Yusuf’s, pulling immediately a moan from the other. They parted and through the darkness of the room looked into each other’s eyes, searching for an answer to an unasked question, before Yusuf’s hand went up to touch Nicolò’s hair and pulled the man he had desired since the moment they met closer until Nicolò was laying on top of him and he could embrace him with both arms, wanting to pull him a close as possible, to feel his heartbeat under his skin and his skin against his. Nicolò, his Nicolò.

Their kisses were slow and intense, open-mouthed, and with tongues exploring the mouth of the man they held close, tasting, licking, and leaving no doubt that this night would lead to more than both had ever expected possible, but maybe had hoped for.

Yusuf’s right hand went from Nicolò’s hair down his neck, over his tense shoulder blades, covered with skin as smooth as silk, and down his spine, causing Nicolò to moan and whimper in his arms, having never felt anything like this before, and when Yusuf’s hand touched his behind, he almost jumped at the touch, not from being scared but from the surprise what this simple touch caused in him. His hips pushed down against Yusuf’s groin, finding there a hardness that mirrored his own.

Nicky parted from the consuming kiss and kissed first Yusuf’s bearded cheek, then his neck, licking gently over his Adam’s apple and then went to kiss his pectoral, every movement and kiss speaking from his fear of doing something wrong, not quite able yet to lose himself in the sensations, and when Yusuf realized through his lust-clouded mind what Nicolò had in mind, the grip in the other’s hair tightened, just when Nicolò’s nose brushed for the first time through his pubic hair. Nicolò looked up and saw how Yusuf shook his head.

“No,” he whispered. “Today is only for you.”

Nicolò frowned but then found himself pulled back up into another scorching kiss before Yusuf rolled them both around until Nicolò was beneath him and he was covering him now with his body. He felt a shiver go through Nicolò’s muscles, felt how he clung to him, fingers searching for something to hold onto, already overwhelmed by emotions he had never allowed himself to experience. Yusuf smiled into the kiss they shared and then did the same as Nicolò just a few moments earlier, leaving his mouth to kiss his cheek, licking over the birthmark next to his mouth, then pressing open-mouthed kisses along his jawline, before he went down his arched neck and gave attention to Nicolò’s neglected nipples. At the first touch, Nicolò almost flew off the bed, a loud moan coming from his lips.

Yusuf looked up and saw Nicolò having again arched his neck, his mouth agape and the eyes shut, before he went to nibble and lick over the sensitive buds on his chest, and finally sucking them into his mouth until both were dark red from his ministrations. He was certain that every mark he left on Nicolò’s skin tonight would immediately heal, and for the first time before becoming immortal equipped with the ability to heal every wound, he hated the thought. He wanted Nicolò to carry bruises and bite marks, little scratches that reminded him for days of the hours they had shared in each other’s arms. Slow kisses covering Nicolò’s belly and hips, he went further down and finally nuzzled the coarse hair at his friend’s groin. The musky and yet clean scent of the man beneath him was intoxicating, everything he had ever wanted and needed, and he remembered that night in the oasis when he had done the same when he had sampled this hint of passion from Nicolò’s body.

He licked up the side of the velvet shaft and let his tongue play for a moment with the foreskin covering the tip before he pulled the skin back with one hand and sucked the plum-shaped head into his mouth. Nicolò’s reaction was trembling legs that he spread even further, giving Yusuf more space, while one of his hands found the black curls of the man who was devouring him, and held onto him. Yusuf alternated between sucks and licks, kisses, and little blows of hot air against his aroused flesh until Nicolò could not be certain anymore if this was a fever dream or reality. Maybe he had been killed on the battlefield of Jerusalem and this was heaven, or maybe hell, but no matter what it was, he never wanted it to stop again. One of Yusuf’s hands held onto his hip, the other started to caress his drawn-up balls, weighing them in the palm of his hand, while sucking more and more of Nicolò’s manhood into his mouth and finally into his throat. Nicolò’s eyes flew open when he found himself in a tightness he had not expected and looking down he found Yusuf looking up at him, eyes blacker than black, filled with an animalistic desire that he had never seen in a human before.

The index finger of Yusuf’s left hand went into his mouth, wetting it with saliva and the precum he was pulling from Nicolò and that tasted like the sweetest honey, and then let it slip behind his balls and found there the small opening he now circled with only a ghosting touch, not wanting to scare Nicolò before he was ready. Slowly he pressed the finger finally into the opening, hearing Nicolò whisper curses and heard his own name, and pushed the finger completely into the tight heat of the man’s body, then holding still for seconds, before he made slow movements, twisting his hand a little and opening him slowly up for more. A second finger joined the first after a time that felt too long and yet not long enough, followed by a third. Nicolò was now writhing on the bed, one hand clasping the linen and the other still in Yusuf’s hair, panting more and more and the skin covered in a sheen of sweat. Yusuf scissored his fingers, adding more spit to make the way easier for the intrusion, but he had no doubt that he was not hurting Nicolò, despite every wound healing immediately. There would be no wound to heal, he would never hurt Nicolò like that, would always take care that he felt good and desired and loved.

Loved.

Yusuf pulled his brows together and tried to urge the thought away, and was distracted when Nicolò pushed his hips up and down, trying to bury his cock in Yusuf’s throat and at the same time wanted to be filled even more.

Wiping his wet mouth with one hand, Yusuf sat up, his own erection proud and red, pulsing with lust, and looked down at the other man who he wanted to claim and make him his forever.

“It would be easier if you turned around, habibi,” he whispered, voice rough and trembling.

Nicolò looked up at him and again shook his head.

“No,” he replied, his own voice reflecting the same emotions that had been carried in Yusuf’s. “I want to see you. I want to see your beautiful face and eyes, burn them into my memory, and never forget what I see.”

Nicolò, usually a man of not many words, let alone those of poesie, surprised Yusuf, who smiled and gave a nod, knowing now that Nicolò wanted the same what he wanted and was no longer hiding it. Licking his lips, Yusuf took his shaft into one hand and jerked himself a few times before he lined himself up and then slowly, oh so slowly, pushed into Nicolò’s body.

Nicolò was holding his breath, unable to move or to breathe, unable to know anymore if he had a heartbeat at all or if he had just died in Yusuf’s arms, this perfect man who covered him with his body like a blanket, arms embracing him, one hand touching gently his face in a reassuring gesture, whispering sweet things he could not understand in a tongue he was not able to speak, and still their meaning was not lost to him.

He opened his eyes and looked right into the black orbs of Yusuf’s, eyes he found himself getting lost in and returned a smile as helpless as happy. Only when Yusuf shifted his hips a little, he gasped again, arching his whole body, tense as a bow, trying to get closer and giving himself to Yusuf, spreading his legs as far as they would go to allow him more access to his willing body.

Slowly, Yusuf pulled himself out, only to push back again after he had almost completely left Nicolò’s body, repeating the movement again and again, until he was sure that Nicolò felt no hint of pain and uncomfort at their union. He kissed his cheek, soft stubble covering it, before his lips found their way back to the other’s, uniting them again in an all-consuming kiss. Nicolò moaning into his mouth, hands roaming over his shoulders and back, scratching his skin and leaving small marks there that healed immediately shut again.

Feeling how his own senses were overflowing with unexpected emotion, how he was losing more and more control, Yusuf looked deep into Nicolò’s eyes, seeing the same tears welled up there as he was carrying in his eyes. Tears of desperation. Of sadness. Of knowing.

Nicolò wrapped his trembling legs around his waist, muscles more strained than in any fight they had gone into side by side as if he wanted to pull him even deeper into his body as if he wanted him even closer, wanted to become finally one with nothing separating them.

Suddenly, Nicolò let out a scream, alarming Yusuf, but when he looked into his face, he saw confusion, but also clear bliss on the other’s features.

“What...?” Nicolò asked breathlessly, eyes filled with bewilderment.

Yusuf’s right brow twitched for a moment, but then he remembered that one time when he had given himself to the merchant sailor in Greece, many years ago, and that the passionate but smelly man had hit a spot inside him that had made him see stars when he angled his hips the right way. He had not dared to inquire it further, and never had had the opportunity to talk to anyone about it, not even when he had pleasured himself and found that there was a spot in his channel that pulled the purest lust from him.

Was it possible...?

He angled his hips a different way and pushed again into Nicolò, and again Nicolò let out a moaning scream. A feeling of pride and pleasure-filled Yusuf’s heart, feeling powerful and like a skilled lover who was able to make the one he desired to feel unspeakable things unknown to so many men, who he pitied.

Nicolò’s fingernails dug deep into his back when he, again and again, hit that spot inside him, until he felt him tremble and shiver under him, his legs shaking uncontrollably, and then Nicolò spilled his precious seed onto his own body. His forehead leaning against Yusuf’s shoulder, his whole body wrapped around him, clinging on him as if he depended on being as close as possible.

It took Yusuf only a few thrusts more before his own seed flooded Nicolò’s insides, marking him truly as his own.

Not able to say a word, they held each other, unable to move or breathe, and maybe they both just had died in each other’s arms, being reborn as someone new, as a union of two men who had been meant to find each other. Destiny, Nicolò had called it more than once. Both their bodies were still shaking under the weight of their emotions.

Catching his breath, Yusuf felt wetness on his shoulder and when he touched Nicolò’s chin with his hand, making him turn his head, he saw that he was crying. There was no longer a single tear running down his cheek, or wetness fogging up vision. Nicolò’s beautiful face was covered in shed tears, silent sobs coming from his lips, that Yusuf now kissed gently.

He wrapped his arms around Nicolò and held him close while slipping from his body, holding him close, still not able to utter a single word.

This must have meant something, mustn’t it?

This must have changed it all, this must have meant something to Nicolò too.

He felt Nicolò shift in his arms until he had turned his back to him, facing the side of the room where the door was, and as if they had done this a thousand times or more before, he followed him in the movement until he was laying behind him, one arm over his mid, and his nose buried in the soft hair.

And holding him like this, Yusuf finally found sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Yusuf moved, the remains of sleep fogging his mind and eyes, and only slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking into the already much too bright sunlight coming from the window. He squinted his eyes, stretching his limbs a little, and feeling still the welcome soreness all over his body that this night of passion had left on him. The scratches and love bites that Nicolò had left on him had surely healed and he knew that he was imagining this warm, throbbing feeling all over his body, but maybe he was not.

He turned to his other side and reached out with one arm, and reached nothing but emptiness on the other side of the bed.

A frown appeared between his brows, lips opening to a gasp that was stuck in his throat.

As if he was not believing that the bed was empty, his hand reached again into emptiness, touching the linen and the pillow on which a single sand-colored hair was the only echo of the man who had been sleeping there, in his arms.

Yusuf shook his head, slowly, and sat up, hoping that Nicolò was sitting on the chair or on the floor, was reading in one of the books they had bought on the market a few days ago, that he was just sitting there in thought, but he was alone.

Alone.

A fist clenched around his heart, taking the life away from him and he felt more like dying than ever before.

His hand went through his mussed-up curls, his mind not able to make sense of this, then covering his mouth as if to stop a scream from leaving his body. He thought, he had hoped, that he and Nicolò had become something else last night, that Nicolò finally felt too what he had been feeling for weeks. But it had all been a lie.

Wetness filled his eyes and his whole body was trembling suddenly.

No. Nicolò had only left to get something to eat for breakfast. He would return in a moment, which his bright smile that lit up his beautiful eyes. He would carry a plate with some fruit and maybe a jug with water.

He would not have left him like this. Not without a goodbye. Not without a last embrace. It was not possible.

And still, it was real.

Nicolò’s clothes were gone from the floor, as was his cot. The satchel he had put onto the chair yesterday had left the room as well. There was nothing that showed that he had not been the only man in this room, as if Nicolò had never existed.

But he had. He was the only thing filling Yusuf’s heart and now this heart was drying out.

There was no life without Nicolò. There was no sense in going on living without him. He was not able to survive with more loss, was not able to even think of a day without the other man by his side.

If only he had told him...

If only he had told him "Don't go."

If only he had told him "Stay with me."

If only he had told him "I love you."

He was an idiot.

Within seconds, he was up and was grabbing his clothing, not caring in the slightest about his appearance. There was only the thought that he had to stop Nicolò from his journey without him, that he had to tell him what he had never dared to tell anyone before in his life.

Putting on his boots and grabbing his overcoat, he left the room, not caring that he left behind all his other belongings. He would pick them up later, or never at all. It did not matter.

He ran down the stairs and through the guest room where only a woman was cleaning the tables, and out onto the street. It was still early, and only few people were doing their business at this time, a farmer bringing his produce to the market, arranging his display to sell the goods later, the close bakery smelled divine when he ran past it, but had no time to spend even a moment of time. Maybe later. When he had gotten what he needed to go on living, to go on breathing.

The harbor was close and still not close enough, every second that it took Yusuf to get there felt like an eternity too long, but finally, he found himself between crates and nets, between sailors and travelers, the scent of the sea filling his nostrils.

He looked around, not even sure what he was looking for, and finally stopped a sailor passing him, carrying a barrel, with a hand on the man’s arm. The stranger frowned, eyed Yusuf with mistrust, probably thinking he was one of those drunk men who frequented the harbors looking for a fight, but then the man saw the desperation in Yusuf’s eyes and raised a brow.

“The Persephone,” Yusuf whispered, a little breathless after his run to the harbor. “Where is she?”

The sailor put the barrel down and scratched his ear.

“Persephone, aye?” He asked. “Just left.”

He pointed toward the inner harbor. Yusuf’s eyes followed him, and what he saw let his heart stop for good.

There was a vessel, proud white sails billowing in the breeze, leaving the harbor. Leaving him.

The sailor picked his barrel back up and left, while Yusuf could only stare at the parting ship.

Maybe he would now learn if it was possible to die of a broken heart. Once he had thought his world had ended when he had been informed of his family’s death, that the crusaders had taken them from him.

Now he knew better.

His life ended with the knowledge that he would never look into those pale eyes again, that promised him heaven. His life ended with the knowledge that he would never hold his Nicolò again in his arms, would never rub again his nose against the soft skin of his neck. That he would not get again drunk on his kisses and touches. His life ended with the knowledge that Nicolò would never be his again, that he would maybe never see him again.

“No,” he whispered, falling to his knees, his eyes still on the ship that was getting more far away with every second, bringing Nicolò to a life in which he had no part any longer. "Please...Nicolò...don't go...please don't go."

Tears streamed down his cheeks, no sound coming from his throat, a hand on the ground, his shoulders shaking. He did not care that anyone could see this weakness, he was not ashamed to show he was a man who was capable of emotion, even if it was not happiness he was feeling, a happiness he wanted o share with the world, but desperation and loss. A loss so much deeper than any loss he had felt before.

It was not only the end of his life.

It was the end of his world.

It was like the light was taken from his life and left behind nothing but darkness. It was like any warmth was taken from him and he was left in the cold, naked, and shivering. It was like his heart had been torn out and thrown away. It was like...

He did not care about the sound of steps behind him. Probably some harbor workers who would mock him for crying, or some children that were going to beg him for a coin or two. Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered but the man on the parting ship. Nothing mattered but...

“Yusuf?”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it is Nicolò who said that last word, not having boarded the ship and who changed his mind the last moment... 💚
> 
> Find me on Twitter  
> https://twitter.com/RisingPhnx1


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